Emily knew something was wrong the moment Sister Agnes called her name that morning.
"Emily, come to the office," she said, her voice coming out not loudly or urgently but rather carefully. Like she was trying to be cautious.
That itself was terrifying.
Emily looked up from the stack of old files she was sorting. The younger children were outside in the yard. The sun was bright just like every ordinary day but Sister Agnes wasn't behaving ordinary.
Her hands were folded too tightly in front of her, and one could easily notice that her smile did not reach her eyes.
Emily's stomach tightened, sensing all these.
"Did I do something wrong?" she asked lightly, trying to joke.
Sister Agnes shook her head. "No. Someone is here to see you."
Emily blinked in surprise. "Someone's here? To see me?" she asked again, hoping she hadn't heard the words well. Even the words itself felt strange in her mouth.
In twenty-two years, no one had ever come for her. Birthdays had passed quietly, holidays had come and gone, she had watched other children pack their small bags and leave with relatives but no one had ever signed their name at the front desk for Emily that they were family or even a family friend.
Emily knew no one and no one had ever come for her.
Clara, who was sitting across from her, slowly lifted her head. "A visitor?" she asked.
Sister Agnes nodded making Emily let out a small laugh.
"That's impossible. I think you've got the wrong person sister Agnes."
But Sister Agnes did not laugh back. "I don't have the wrong person Emily. For your information, he came yesterday," she said softly. "And we asked him to return today."
Emily's heart skipped when she heard that.
He'd been here yesterday? Someone had come for her yesterday and she hadn't even known?
"Okay. Who is it?" she asked curiously.
Sister Agnes hesitated. "A man," she answered carefully. "He says he has something important to discuss with you."
Something important. Those words were too heavy because she didn't even know this man. So, what could he want to discuss with her?
Clara leaned closer. "Do you know any man outside this place?"
Emily shook her head slowly. "You know I don't."
She didn't know any man, not an uncle, not a distant cousin and definitely not a family friend.
Her chest began to feel tight as different questions kept swirling in her head.
Why would someone come yesterday… and come back again? That meant it wasn't a mistake and that he was serious.
"Emily," Sister Agnes said gently, "please come with me. He's waiting."
The hallway felt longer than usual as she walked. Her thoughts were loud, and messy.
Maybe it's about work. Or maybe someone wants to sponsor the orphanage but why speak to her? She was also an orphan.
Or maybe… maybe someone finally came for me.
Her heart beat faster at that last thought and she hated that it did because it meant she was hoping and hope was dangerous.
Hope had embarrassed her too many times before and that was the last thing she wanted now.
They reached the office door and Sister Agnes placed her hand on the knob and paused.
"He is inside, waiting," she said softly.
Emily swallowed and nodded as she braced herself. The door opened and she saw the man, standing near the window.
He was tall, and he stood still. He was dressed in a dark suit that looked too expensive for a place like this. Sunlight streamed in behind him, outlining his figure in quiet authority.
He turned slowly when he heard the door and immediately, his eyes and that of Emily met.
Emily felt it instantly. It was that strange feeling of being studied carefully like he had already memorized her face just by that one glance.
This must be him, the man who came yesterday.
Why would someone return… unless they were certain?
She looked him over but he did not smile. His face was calm, serious, and looked controlled. There was no warmth in his eyes, neither was there any nervousness. He just looked emotionless, like someone used to being obeyed.
Emily suddenly felt aware of everything about herself; her simple dress, her tied-back hair, the faint ink stain on her fingers.
With everything she'd seen, she knew she did not belong in the same room as him.
Sister Agnes quietly closed the door, leaving them facing each other even though she didn't leave.
When the silence became unbearably suffocating, Emily cleared her throat. "You wanted to see me?"
Her voice sounded smaller than she intended.
The man stepped forward. Up close, he looked older than she first thought. A few strands of gray at his temples.
"Yes. My name is Victor Hale," he said.
Emily looked at him still wondering why he was telling her his name because the name did not ring any bell. Instead of asking, she simply raised a brow, waiting for him to continue whatever he wanted to say.
He held her gaze steadily. "I came yesterday to confirm certain details," he continued. "I needed to be sure."
Be sure of what? She mused, her heartbeat quickening, thoughts she couldn't afford to accommodate flooding into her head uninviting.
"And now?" she asked.
He studied her face one more time, as if making a final decision.
"Now I can say this with certainty," he said calmly.
"Say what?" she asked, swallowing hard.
"That I am your father."
The words landed quietly. But inside her, everything shook.
No. No, that couldn't be right. Her breath caught in her throat.
"What?" she whispered, hoping she'd probably heard wrong.
Sister Agnes shifted behind her, but said nothing.
Victor did not look away as he said again, "I am your biological father."
Biological. That was such a clinical word. Emily felt like she was floating outside her own body.
How could he be her father? Fathers did not appear out of nowhere. Fathers did not wait twenty-two years and fathers did not look at their daughters like business arrangements like this Victor was doing right now. It didn't make any sense.
"You're mistaken," she said quickly. "There must be a mistake."
"There is no mistake," he replied.
Her heart began pounding harder. If he was telling the truth… then everything she believed about herself was wrong.
All the nights she stared at the ceiling wondering why she was left. All the times she told herself maybe her parents were dead. Maybe they were poor. Maybe they were too young and didn't want her, all those times were a lie.
But this man… This man did not look helpless. He looked powerful. So why would he....
"If you were my father," she said slowly, her voice trembling despite her effort, "why didn't you come before? Why did you leave me in an orphanage?"
There it was. The question that had lived in her chest for twenty-two years.
"There were circumstances," he answered, looking her straight in the eyes.
The calmness in his tone hurt more than anger would have.
"Circumstances don't last twenty-two years," she whispered.
His jaw tightened slightly. "I could not acknowledge you before now."
Not didn't know, not searched for you but could not.
The words cut deeper than she expected.
"So why now?" she asked, raising her chin.
"Because it is time."
********
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